damaged
by tatty ted
Summary: Her father made Roisin believe that men were all vile creatures. - —Roisin/Mike.


**damaged**

The only man a girl is suppose to love is her father.

He's her saviour, her hero. The person she looks up to. He's suppose to protect her against boys, hurt anyone that hurts her.

Fathers aren't supposed to hurt their little girls, but that's exactly what Roisin Connor's father did.

* * *

><p>Three <em>fucking <em>years old. That's how old she was when it started.

She'd sleep with a tatty teddy beside her, living in a delusional world at the teddy could actually protect her from the monster. She'd hear his footsteps along the hallway and she'd close her eyes tightly when the bedroom door opened.

She'd hear his breathing as he got closer. It was heavy and when her father stood at the end of the bed, she knew what was coming next.

He'd slip his hand under the duvet, into her pyjama bottoms and perform the sick act on her.

Although it was over in five, ten minutes top; to her it felt like an eternity. Her mind always screamed that he was hurting her but no words ever came out of her mouth. In other words, she was petrified into silence.

And when he had finished with his _little girl_ he tucked her up in bed, kissed her forehead and walked out. He left her as though nothing had happened. Like the abuse hadn't even taken place but it had.

It was their _secret_.

* * *

><p>Five years pass.<p>

She's eight now. She's a big girl well that's what her father tells her. He tells her big girl's do things. He explains to her about intercourse and it's what people do when they're in love. He starts to rape her.

The first time he does it, her mum's drugged up in the kitchen. Her mother's nothing but a piece of _shit, _creating children yet never protecting them. Roisin hates her _fucking _guts but do you blame her?

She still sleeps with the tatty teddy, still believing it can protect her.

It can't. It doesn't. It just lies as still as she does as her father lies over her, groaning her name.

* * *

><p>She's twelve.<p>

She's growing up. She's changing in more ways then one. She knows what her father does to her is wrong. She's a ticking timebomb, waiting to expose his _dirty secret _and he knows he has to silence her.

So he does. He sells his only daughter.

* * *

><p>She works in a massage parlor for a guy called Ahmed.<p>

On the outside it looks a normal place, just like any other building on the street but it isn't. Inside it's a brothel, a cold and calculated place where her and several other girls work.

She's got her own room. It's small, as tiny as a box but she's grateful. At least she doesn't have to share with anyone, it could be worse.

She earns a lot as a hooker but the amount Ahmed charges for rent, she's barely left with enough to live on. She doesn't complain though. She's got money, she's feed and she's warm.

Ahmed cares for her more than what her biological parents did, she knows life could be harder.

* * *

><p>Three years pass.<p>

She's fifteen now. She's depressed. Suicidal thoughts aren't far from her mind. She thinks about sliting her throat, hanging herself. Perhaps climbing up the highest building in Ireland and throwing herself off.

She doesn't want to be in the business anymore. She doesn't want to be treated like a piece of meat but she doesn't know how to leave. She's been in the buisness since she was twelve years old.

Thoughts of abuse are always there, in her mind like a jack in the box. You never know when they're going to pop out at you.

It's horrible. The flashbacks. The fear. The nightmares. Whenever she closes her eyes, she relieves it all. The abuse, the rape, the prostitution. It's like some sort of nightmare only it's not, it's reality!

The one day, she plans her suicide. She takes a knife from the kitchen, takes it to her room and she's about to lock the door when she hears the building been broken into and loads of people shouting.

* * *

><p>At first she's scared, really scared and secondly, she doesn't know if she should talk or not but they find her; cowering in her room.<p>

She feels a pair of arms around her shoulders and soothing words whispered into her ear. When she hears the words, she bursts into tears.

For the first time in twelve years, she cries about everything. The abuse, the rape and the prostitution.

What happens the next couple of days pass in a blur but all Roisin remembers is, that one day she's going to join the Vice Team and help all those innocent children, teenagers and adults who are subjected to abuse and sold into the sex trafficking world.

* * *

><p>She's twenty-five when she finally makes that dream come true and it's not long after that her father dies.<p>

She's happy. At least, that's what she tells herself. Those physical scars are long gone but the emotional ones still remain.

So she promises herself she'll never fall in love and she'll never trust another man again.

* * *

><p>Eight years later she still sticks to that promise.<p>

She's an uptight bitch but men made her that way.

* * *

><p><strong>an**: just my idea why roisin's such an _uptight bitch_.  
>overall, my second trial &amp; retribution fic. please review. thank you :)<p> 


End file.
